


I'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

by codenametargeter



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Azure Moon Route, Dimitri is very tired, Felix is a prickly metaphorical cat, M/M, Post-War, governing a kingdom is hard actually, relearning how to be friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25633483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codenametargeter/pseuds/codenametargeter
Summary: The first year after the war ends is one meant for rebuilding but Dimitri quickly realizes that it's not just Fódlan that needs to come together and heal. Both he and Felix will have to relearn what it is to be friends again after so many years. Neither task is going to be an easy one.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 11
Kudos: 68





	I'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> I bet you thought my next fic was going to have folklore lyrics for the title. SURPRISE, IT'S STILL LOVER-TIME HERE. ~next time, baby~
> 
> Anyways, this fic happened because I wanted to write the final scene of it and I decided it was a great idea to officially link most/all of my Dimilix fics together because I have no chill. So this one is basically a direct sequel to [Five Times Felix Absolutely Definitely Did Not Kiss Dimitri (And One Time There’s No Denying He Did)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24898348) and it is safe to assume that [The Trouble With Commas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24377710) happens about a year after this one ends. 
> 
> Also I can neither confirm nor deny how much of this monstrosity was written while listening to "this is me trying" on repeat.

For once in their lives, they talk about it. 

Dimitri almost falls over in shock when Felix searches him out on the battlements the next morning. The war ended yesterday and he’s not entirely sure the idea of peace has sunk in yet after so many years filled with nothing but death and bloodshed. But there is no denying Edelgard is dead and that her forces have laid down their arms. The armies of the Kingdom and the Church remained in Enbarr to tend to their wounded and their dead instead of hastening back to the monastery. And, to his great surprise, Felix had joined him in his borrowed bedchamber that evening after they’d both quietly slipped out of the celebrations in the makeshift dining hall. They hadn’t spoken much, choosing to let their actions do so for them as first they kissed and then made love twice. Not that Felix would refer to it as such, of course, but within the privacy of his own mind… 

Although he still slept little, Dimitri hadn’t been surprised to find Felix already gone when he’d woken that morning even though they’d fallen asleep curled around together. Neither had he taken it personally. Despite his promise to not pretend their kiss on the battlefield hadn’t happened, he is still Felix after all. Talking isn’t exactly his favorite thing. 

“Your Majesty,” Felix says, pausing a meter or so away. He’s approached from Dimitri’s good side although he’s not sure if that was intentional. 

Dimitri turns away from looking out at the city and smiles. “Oh, Felix. Good morning. Please, there’s no need to be so formal.”

He snorts. “You can save the “oh I’m just like the rest of you” speech. I heard it enough at the Academy.” 

Cheeks flushing, Dimitri says, “Ahh actually I was going to say because it seems a bit silly given how we spent last night.” 

“Oh.” Now it’s Felix’s turn to blush and he does so so prettily that Dimitri can’t help remembering how Felix has looked beneath him, dark hair spread across the pillow as he’d clung to Dimitri’s shoulders and chanted his name like a prayer as they had come together. It was a beautiful sight he wishes never to forget. “Right.”

He takes a chance and steps closer, raising a hand to carefully brush stray strands of hair out of Felix’s face. “I enjoyed our evening together,” he says, moving closer still, “quite a bit.”

“Yeah, so did I,” Felix breathes the words against his lips before Dimitri kisses him, soft and tender. Anyone could look up and see them on the ramparts but Dimitri finds that he doesn’t particularly care right now. It’s hard to think about much of anything as Felix presses up against him with his hands laying flat against his breastplate. Dimitri’s own fingers tangle into Felix’s messy, dark hair that his ponytail only pretends to contain, one hand still gently cupping his face.

As their lips part, Dimitri keeps his one hand in Felix’s hair where it is and tips his head forward so their foreheads rest against each other even though the angle feels somewhat awkward with their height difference. “Perhaps it is selfish of me but I wish you had not left so early this morning.”

He feels the difference immediately as Felix’s entire body tenses, the easy calm between them gone but Dimitri does not understand what he has done wrong. Felix inhales through his nose and then carefully extricates himself from Dimitri’s grasp, taking a step back. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” 

Although he keeps his expression as neutral as he can manage, internally, Dimitri braces himself. They have been through this before. Felix kisses him and then he withdraws and pretends it never happened. It was foolish of him to expect a night of lovemaking to be any different. “About why you left or our evening in general?”

“It can’t happen again.”

This time, Dimitri does not succeed in keeping his bitterness completely in check. “Of course it can’t.”

Felix starts pacing back and forth, one hand curled tightly around his sword hilt. “It’s not that I disliked it. That should be obvious. But we can’t just start being--” he chokes on the next word but eventually spits it out, “lovers after everything.”

Dimitri holds up a hand. “There’s no need for you to elaborate, Felix. I have been kissed by you often enough over the years to know how you’d prefer to proceed from here.” 

“Boar, you’re not listening to me!” Felix snaps. Dimitri flinches as the insult he’s grown so used to hearing thrown his way but had hoped to never hear again. Groaning, Felix drops his head into his hands and then rakes them back through his hair. “See? This is what I mean. I keep calling you- when I don’t mean to- I can’t-- I don’t know how…” He starts pacing again, clearly frustrated. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to elaborate,” Dimitri says stiffly, drifting back into the safety of formality. This is a Felix he does not recognize nor understand. Not, of course, that he has fully understood Felix all that often over the last few years. Not since their first battle. 

“I’m _trying._ ”

Ahh. This part of Felix, he _does_ still understand.

Finally, he stops pacing and turns to face Dimitri again, planting his feet and folding his arms. “Even when you were nothing but a beast, I followed you into war. Because you were my king. But you’re not my friend.” 

That, he cannot argue with. But still, Dimitri carefully picks his words and says, “I thought that perhaps our kiss after the battle was to be the renewal of our friendship.” 

“It was. It _is_ ,” Felix says. “But I can’t figure out both at the same time.”

It’s still only a jumbled half thought but Dimitri has had an entire lifetime of knowing Felix. He understands enough. “Do you mean to say that you do not believe you can become my friend again while we are also newly lovers?”

His relief is almost tangible. “Yes. That.” Even the moment that Dimitri takes to turn the thought over in his mind seems to be a moment too long and Felix looks down at the ground. “This is stupid. I shouldn’t have--”

“I would have your friendship, Felix,” Dimitri cuts him off. He waits until Felix raises his amber eyes back up before continuing. “Above all else, I would have that.” 

The words seem to throw Felix even more and he shifts his weight. “Right. Great. So that’s settled then.”

The problem, of course, is that Dimitri still very much wants to kiss Felix again but he shoves that sentiment as far into the back of his mind as he can because he knows Felix is right. If they are selfish now, this will likely only end poorly for both of them. There is work that must be done first. So instead, he straightens up and says, “I was going to ask you to return to Fhirdiad with me and serve as my advisor but perhaps it would be best if there was some time and distance--”

“No.”

Dimitri blinks. 

Felix’s shoulders tense up again but he forces them back down and says, “Ask me.” There’s a beat before his tone softens slightly and he says, “Dimitri, please.”

Perhaps it is a sign that he is weak but Dimitri finds that he cannot say no to a request like that from Felix’s lips. “Felix, I would be honored if you would consent to return to Fhirdiad with me to serve as my advisor and help me run this unified kingdom for as long as you are willing.”

He opens and closes his mouth twice, seeming to struggle with what to say before finally, he scowls and says, “Obviously. What else is a Fraldarius supposed to do?”

Half a dozen thoughts pass through his mind but he voices none of them because selfishly, he does not want Felix to change his mind. “Thank you. Truly. I will welcome your counsel. I think it would please both of our fathers to know we will be working together as they once did.”

“Is that you talking or your ghosts?”

The question startles Dimitri more than it should and after a moment, he laughs. Felix looks at him like he’s a madman which he supposes isn’t entirely incorrect. He just hadn’t realized until now that the ghosts haven’t plagued him all morning. “No, that thought was entirely my own.” 

Judging by his expression, Felix doesn’t seem to entirely believe him but he says, “Good,” anyways. 

And then they are left standing there awkwardly staring at each other, neither one of them quite knowing what to say. Perhaps, Dimitri thinks, Felix was wiser than he had realized to insist that they learn how to be friends again first before adding any other complications into the mix. They cannot simply pick up where they left off eight years ago. Too much has happened and neither of them are the same people. Both trust and respect must be rebuilt. 

It’s almost a relief when a young soldier _(Young. Who is he to make declarations when he himself is all of 23?)_ comes running up and bows to them. “Your Majesty, Your Grace.” 

Beside him, Felix makes a face at the sound of the honorific. Dimitri shakes his head over so slightly and says, “Please, that’s not necessary.” The messenger doesn’t look as if he entirely believes him as he straightens back up but that is a battle for another day. Instead, Dimitri asks, “Is there a message of some sort?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Felix snorts and the soldier’s eyes widen but he keeps going. “Lord Gautier was looking for you and you as well, Duke Fraldarius. There is a meeting in the throne room.”

“Please tell Sylvain we will both be there shortly,” Dimitri says with a nod. The soldier bows again and rightly takes his nod as a dismissal. When he turns back to Felix, the shorter man is frowning although not at anything in particular. “Is something troubling you?”

Felix shakes his head and says, “Just that Sylvain’s going to be such an ass about all this.”

“He only saw our kiss and does not know we spent the night together. Perhaps Mercedes will prove to be a good influence on him.”

“Did everyone know about that except me?”

“It seems likely, yes.” Felix huffs but there isn’t any real anger behind it. It all just feels so very Felix that Dimitri can’t help but smile, something he quickly hides behind a gloved hand. Once he thinks he has regained control of his expression, he straightens and says, “Perhaps we should make our way to the throne room then to avoid giving him any further reason for suspicion.”

“Sure,” Felix says but makes no move in that direction. Perhaps he is waiting for him so Dimitri starts walking in the direction the messenger had gone. He takes all of three steps before the sound of Felix’s voice stops him. “Dimitri.”

He turns to face him but stays silent, waiting.

Felix’s mouth opens and closes twice before he finally manages, “Before. I didn’t necessarily mean never. Just not now.”

It takes Dimitri a few moments to parse his meaning and another two to make a decision as he closes the space between them. “Would you permit me one last indiscretion for now then?” he asks, raising one hand to gently cup Felix’s face to make his intention clear. It is a selfish request but then again, Felix has often been selfish with his kisses over the last few years. Felix nods his consent even as he tilts his head up towards Dimitri. If this is to be their last kiss for some time if not possibly forever, he means to make it count. He kisses Felix softly yet deliberately, trying to memorize the feel of his lips against his own. When he pulls away at last, he’s surprised to see Felix’s eyes open and looking up at him with some emotion in them he can’t quite place. “Thank you.”

Almost immediately, the usual grumpy Felix returns as he scowls and takes a step back. “Ugh. Don’t make it weird, Dimitri.”

“My apologies, Felix,” Dimitri says, not bothering to hide his smile this time. “Shall we go see about healing Fódlan?”

~

From when he was a small child, Dimitri has been educated about the expectations for kings. Ruling, his father had often told him, is not about wearing a crown and issuing decrees. It is about doing what is best for your people even when you must make the difficult and unpleasant choice. Lambert had repeated these lessons year after year until the Tragedy claimed him and then Rodrigue had taken up the mantle of instruction. The point being that Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is not uneducated about these sorts of things. He is the opposite. He thinks he knows what to expect.

Unfortunately, Dimitri has quickly discovered that in comparison, winning the war was easy. Governing’s far harder.

They stop briefly in Garreg Mach before he and many of the other Faerghans continue their journey north back to Fhirdiad. He has been working ever since. Dimitri is convinced that the only reason he has gone to sleep at a reasonable hour each night is because Dedue is insistent that he rest and does not take no for an answer. 

He’s grateful that Felix agreed to become his advisor as he dreads thinking of what his workload might look like otherwise. They spend a good deal of their waking hours together, trying to navigate ruling not just Faerghus but a united Fódlan and arguing about it more often than not. Age has not tempered Felix’s sharp tongue although sometimes, Dimitri wishes it had. At the same though, it is that very tongue that often stops the council meetings from dragging on any longer than they already do. They also spend so many hours in Dimitri’s office pouring over countless scrolls and pieces of parchment that by the end of the first week, Dimitri orders a second desk installed there so Felix has his own space and they are not jostling each other as they write. 

And then there is the coronation. If Dimitri had his way, Archbishop Byleth would simply come to Fhirdiad, he would kneel down, she would crown him, and then perhaps they would all dine together. But being king often means _not_ getting your way. A proper coronation is important, not just for him but for the people especially since they have gone so long without a king. It is, however, expensive.

“Who’s going to pay for it?” Felix demands in a council meeting when the issue first comes up. He waves around parchment with details regarding the somewhat meager contents of the treasury.

Gilbert sighs for the third time in as many minutes. “We will find a way. This is a necessary expense. His Majesty will be the first crowned king of Fódlan in centuries. And the people need something to be happy about, perhaps even more than any of us know.” 

Felix mutters something too quiet for the rest of the table to hear but he is seated at Dimitri’s right hand which means he can make out just enough words about unsatisfied Empire lords to work out the rest. He’s not wrong. Fódlan is still united in name only. They have plenty of work to do to make it a reality. 

The coronation might actually help with that though and so Dimitri casts his gaze around the table, looking at each face seated there as he turns the issue over in his mind. When the answer comes to him, it seems painfully obvious. “Sylvain.”

Sylvain leans forward, all four of his chair legs firmly on the ground again. “Yeah?”

“I’d appreciate it if you would take point on this matter,” Dimitri says. Down the table, both of Gilbert’s eyebrows shoot skyward but he ignores the silent objection to his choice. Sylvain has put a lot of effort into convincing people otherwise but Dimitri is well aware of how incredibly smart he is. If there is anyone who can throw a decent party while also on a budget, it is likely him.

Sylvain grins. “Sure, Your Majesty. It’ll be fun.” 

“Fun. Right,” Felix snorts beside him but otherwise, he does not object. 

“Don’t worry, Your Grace,” Sylvain says with a wink. “I’ll make sure you have fun too. Cross my heart.” 

“If that matter is decided then?” Dimitri hastens to say before Felix can make a retort that Sylvain will simply laugh at. No one says anything and so he nods once and says, “Let us move on then.” 

By some miracle, Sylvain is able to pull together all of the plans for the coronation in a mere three weeks. The biggest surprise is that none of his key advisors have any major objections, not even Felix or Gilbert. 

The day before the event, Felix walks into Dimitri’s office without knocking as is his habit. The guards have long since stopped challenging him partially because it has gone poorly for them in the apst and partially because Dimitri had instructed them not to. He clutches a piece of parchment in his hand that’s likely related to the scowl on his face. “I have to go back to Fraldarius,” he says without any preamble. “There are some… it’s not important why but apparently as their--” his scowl turns into a sneer, “-- _duke_ , I need to handle the matter.”

“Is it anything I can assist with?” Dimitri asks, setting down his quill.

Felix shakes his head. “No, it’s all… it’s nothing really but I need to go there and deal with it in person. Or so my seneschal claims.”

“When will you leave?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

Dimitri blinks, startled for some reason. “I see.”

Felix takes his usual seat in front of his desk, exhibiting a sort of comfort that would have seemed impossible a month ago. “I’d push it off if I could but this is the second letter my seneschal has sent this week.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to neglect your own territory on my behalf,” Dimitri says even though in a way, he already has. Fraldarius has already lost their previous duke to the war and now their king has laid claim to their latest one’s attention.

“It’s fine, they’re used to it.”

Harsh words to hear but likely the truth. 

Felix shoves the parchment into a pocket. “I’ll make sure you have everything you need before I leave. And hopefully I’ll only be gone a week.”

“Thank you for staying for tomorrow,” Dimitri says with all the sincerity he can muster. “I will be glad to have you by my side through it as you have been this last month.”

“Yeah, well…” Felix shifts uncomfortably. “Figured this was easier than Sylvain galloping after me to drag me back here for whatever nonsense he’s got planned for tomorrow.” Reaching blindly, he grabs a piece of paper from his own desk and glances at its contents for just long enough to read the heading. “Can we deal with this request from Enbarr before we have to drown in foppish nonsense tomorrow?”  
  


“Of course, Felix,” Dimitri says, reaching to take the parchment from him to review its contents for himself. After a few seconds, they slip back into the easy working companionship that’s characterized their time together. It’s not friendship, not yet. It’s hardly as if there’s time for whatever friendship entails anyways. But they take most of their meals together and work through them and sometimes, they talk about things that aren’t their work or weapons. And Felix rarely calls him boar anymore. Maybe after the coronation and Felix returns from Fraldarius, they will have more time to breath. 

Still, he is glad that Felix is there when he kneels before the archbishop and they place the newly reforged crown of Fódlan upon his brow. Not just Felix but also Sylvain, Ingrid, Dedue, Mercedes, Annette, Ashe, and all the rest of the Blue Lions who fought with them who hail from across the continent. The crown may rest upon his brow now but at least he knows he is not alone. After the five years he spent with no one ghosts for company, that is all he could possibly ask for. 

That doesn’t stop him from wishing the next day that Felix hadn’t left at dawn the next morning and could be there with him when the first of the Adrestian and Alliance lords who traveled for the coronation kneel before him one at a time to pledge their fealty to him as king of Fódlan.

He tells Felix as much when he returns six days later. Felix is still dressed for travel since Dimitri ran into him in the palace corridors as he returned and invited him to dine. His gloves and cloak sit draped across a chair as he and Dimitri eat dinner together in the royal quarters, for once not surrounded by stacks of parchment. It’s the most relaxed they’ve been in…. well, years. 

“So your people were happy to see you then?” Dimitri asks as he refills his wine glass. 

Felix shrugs. “Happy isn’t the word I’d use.”

“What word then?”

“I don’t know.” He pushes a carrot around his plate without any real purpose. “The territory runs itself mostly at this point. My old man saw to that. They just like making a Fraldarius make certain decisions every now and then.”

Dimitri suspects it’s a bit more complicated than that but he lets it go for now. “Well, hopefully they will not hold it against me that I keep you away from them so often.” 

“They love you more than my entire family,” Felix says, rolling his eyes. He sets down his fork, giving up his vegetable farce. “What did I miss here?”

“Mostly just attempts to continue the party for a few more days along with what I am told are some truly spectacular hangovers.” 

“Sylvain did an adequate job planning everything.” From anyone else’s lips, those words would have sounded borderline rude but from Felix’s, they are actually praise. “What else?”

Dimitri shrugs. “I had one of the scribes take notes for you during the meetings and write up summaries but not all that much of significance. Several of the Adrestian and Alliance nobles insisted on formally swearing fealty although I’m not terribly sure how much weight I am willing to place in thos--”

“What.”

He blinks. “Sorry?” 

Any of the ease in Felix’s posture is gone now and he grips his wine glass tightly. “You started taking oaths of fealty while I was gone?” 

“I… yes.” Dimitri is confused. Very confused. Why is this of all things making him prickly? “It seemed the thing to do now that I have been crowned and the others agreed.” Felix stares at him, mouth half open but without any words coming out. “Do you disagree?” 

Apparently realizing that his mouth has been hanging open, Felix snaps it shut and shakes his head. “No. It’s… fine.” And then he changes the subject.

For the rest of the evening and the next few days, Dimitri wonders if it truly is fine but then Felix stands there stony faced as always as another lord bends their knee to offer their allegiance. He says nothing at the time and says nothing about it later when they are alone so Dimitri writes the reaction off as one induced by stress or perhaps fatigue. Within days, they are back to normal and it slips completely from his mind. 

His routine continues to be a busy one filled mostly with work. Putting a crown officially on his head seems to have brought more people out of the woodwork who have problems that apparently only the king of Fódlan can solve. Somehow, even though he is making sure to find the time to share meals with friends when they are in the capital, he is working even more than before. 

It does not become a noticeable problem until he is on his fourth night without a reasonable amount of sleep and he and Felix are still in his office well past sunset, trying to settle yet another problem on their ever growing list.

“How can you possibly think that’s a good idea?” Felix asks heatedly, one hand gesturing wildly. 

Dimitri sighs for the second time in as many minutes. “It is not so much that I think it’s a _good_ idea, Felix, as I think it is the only viable one.”

“Viable? Have you lost your mind?”

“Do you have a better idea to propose?”

“Anything is better than this nonsense!”

At those words, something inside Dimitri breaks even though they have argued like this many a time before. He slams a hand down on the desk and snaps, “Then come up with a better one instead of arguing with me just because it pleases you to fight me!”

Felix blinks and shuts his mouth, the sound of his teeth clacking together the only one in the now silent room. 

Oh.

Dimitri rubs at his temples with both hands. “Felix, forgive me. That was unworthy.”

“It’s fine,” Felix says, words somewhat clipped.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I know you’re only trying to think about Fódlan.”

Felix says, “Dimitri, it’s fine. I’ve said worse.”

“Yes, but--”

“Just stop apologizing, alright?”

Finally, he feels like he can manage a smile. “As you wish.” 

Carelessly, Felix tosses the parchment down on the desk and rises, stretching his arms up above his head. “We should’ve gone to sleep ages ago anyways. Dedue would have my head if he were here and knew you were still awake at this hour.”

“I promise not to tell him when he returns from Duscur next week if you don’t?” Dimitri says as he stands too, the offer as close to an apology as he thinks Felix will accept.

“Fine, whatever,” Felix says before they head off to their respective bedchambers. But the next morning, he arrives with an idea of his own to solve the previous night’s dilemma.

~

Uniting Fódlan was never going to be an easy task and so Dimitri is not terribly surprised when a messenger arrives with word that one of the prominent lords in former Alliance territory seems intent on making a bid for independence. 

“Is it worth reaching out to Claude?” Dimitri asks even though he knows the answer.

Sylvain snorts. “Lorenz liked Claude about as much as he liked us. Maybe less. I doubt his father feels any differently.”

“Claude also hasn’t made it easy for anyone to get in contact with him unless he wants them to,” Ingrid says, brow furrowed as she takes her turn to read through the scribbled missive. “I can try and reach out to him though if anyone really thinks it’s worth the effort…”

Frowns seem to be the expression of the day as Gilbert wears one too as he says, “Count Gloucester will not be easily swayed through diplomacy.”

“We have an army,” Felix says. “Let’s use it.” Everyone turns to look at him and he shrugs. “It’s what we’re all thinking.”

Dimitri presses his lips together into a line. “I would prefer to avoid more bloodshed after so many years but…” He sighs. “We appear to have little choice although I would like to extend a hand of peace to Count Gloucester before we meet on the field of battle.”

Gilbert nods. “Of course, Your Majesty. Who would you like to lead the army?”

“I will.”

Felix is the first to object and he does so with all of his usual delicacy. “No.” 

“Felix…” Dimitri starts to say.

“He is right, Your Majesty,” Gilbert says. “The danger is too great and you have no heir yet.” 

“Both of those things were true during the war as well.”

“Someone else can handle a little rebellion,” Felix says, glowering more than usual. 

Dimitri takes a deep breath and flexes his hands under the table. Even crowned, everyone seems intent on trying to protect him like he is still a child even though he has proven himself time and time again. Perhaps he has not proven himself as a king yet but he has as a warrior. This is something he can handle without feeling at a loss. “I will not ask anyone to do anything in service of Fódlan that I myself am not also willing to do.” 

Felix merely rolls his eyes but his meaning might as well be audible. Across the table, Gilbert sighs and says, “Your mind is made up then?”

He nods. “It is.” 

“Fine then,” Felix says. “When do we leave?” Dimitri has barely begun to turn a questioning look towards him when he says, “I’m supposed to be your shield or whatever, right? You’re not going without me.”

“Of course,” Dimitri says as if he had remembered and expected him to say as much all along. And really, he probably should have. All he has to do is close his eyes and the memory of Felix telling him that he would die by his side or live by it before they left for Enbarr easily comes to mind. It does, however, force his hand somewhat regarding another matter. “Gilbert, if you would be willing to remain here to keep everything running smoothly, I would be most grateful.”

The older man bows as deeply as his chair and the table will allow. “Of course, Your Majesty.” 

They do not take their entire army south into what was once Alliance territory but they bring enough of it. Both Sylvain and Ingrid lead battalions of mounted knights and Dimitri himself rides at the head of a battalion with Felix at his side looking like he’s just waiting for the faintest excuse to leap from his horse and fight with his feet on solid ground. 

Diplomacy fails and so Dimitri gives the order and Fódlan marches against the lord who would break the continent in pieces again. 

It is never much of a competition. It is just a matter of time.

Despite himself, Dimitri finds himself almost enjoying the rush of battle after so much time spent behind a desk. He has no desire to give into his ghosts again and become nothing but an agent of destruction and revenge but he is oddly at home swinging Areadbhar. Blood stains his chest plate but none of it is his. Nearby, Felix fights as well, wielding both his sword and reason magic. They’ve carved out a circle for themselves as they watch each other’s backs. Their enemies are slower to approach now. He hopes that means that perhaps Gloucester is close to surrendering. He’d like to be done with killing today.

His current opponent steps backwards, drawing Dimitri away from Felix. He does not think much of it as this has not been the first time this has happened today. Besides, he is fairly sure he is three--no, make that two--moves from knocking this soldier to the ground. 

It turns out that Dimitri is correct. But he doesn’t see the soldier who attacks from his blind side. His arm catches most of the brunt of the blow. But not all of it. He doesn’t remember falling to his knees.

“DIMITRI!”

He doesn’t particularly care to remember the five years when he was alone but they are why he is able change his grip on Areadbhar and use his Crest given strength to send his assailant flying. From the way they hit the ground and make no move to stand, it is likely the blow was a deadly one but he has little time to consider the matter further because Felix is at his side.

“How bad is it?” Felix asks. He remains upright with his sword at the ready, only glancing down briefly.

Dimitri looks down at his arm and torso and blinks when he sees the damage to them. There is more blood upon his armor than he had realized. “I’ll be fine, Felix. If you’d be willing to give me a hand up?”

Finally, Felix does spare more than a fraction of a second to look at him and his eyes widen. “You’re not fine!”

“The battle is not over yet,” Dimitri says. He will not leave others to die in his place. 

“You’re the king, you idiot,” Felix says. Ah. Apparently Dimitri must have said that last part aloud. The swordsmen shoots sparks in the sky; a prearranged signal apparently as moments later, Ingrid lands beside them. Both she and her pegasus show signs of battle. “Get him to the healers,” Felix snaps.

“Please don’t argue, Your Majesty,” Ingrid says even as she takes his good arm and helps pull him up behind her. 

Dimitri shakes his head. “This is unnecessary. You should be leading your battalion, Ingrid, not being a glorified courier for me.”

“You know that’s not what this is,” Ingrid says in the slightly chiding tone he hasn’t heard in ages. It’s enough to make him smile despite the circumstances.

Carefully, he shifts so he’s holding on to Ingrid’s armor with his right hand so he can use his functioning arm to at least try and staunch the bleeding. He hadn’t noticed before while the battle distracted him but it does appear to be bleeding far more profusely than he’d previously realized. Perhaps his friends are not being as overprotective as he’d once feared. “You have my thanks,” he murmurs.

Ingrid shakes her head, starting to guide her pegasus lower. “That isn’t necessary.”

“Yes,” Dimitri says, “it is.” 

He gives himself willingly to the custody of the healers who worry far too much. It is a serious injury; of that there is no doubt, but Dimitri has had worse before. This at least will likely heal. Everything becomes a bit of a blur from there as they strip him of the top half of his armor and start seeing to his arm which is indeed far worse than he’d initially thought. It is not just his arm that is injured (although it took most of the damage) but also his ribs of which several are cracked. It could have been worse though.

The sounds of battle outside have faded and the healers have done what they can for him for now when Felix shoulders his way through the guards and all but snarls at him, “You absolute fucking idiot!” 

This is not unexpected and so Dimitri merely stares up at the tent’s fabric above him. However, not everyone is used to this and so there are gasps of shock. One of the healers says, “Your Grace, he is the king!”

Felix whirls around to face him. “Do I look like I give a--”

“If you would all be so kind as to please give Duke Fraldarius and me a moment alone,” Dimitri hastens to say before Felix can scandalize anyone further, using his good arm to push himself into a sitting position. Felix glares at him but he ignores it, instead focusing on the handful of healers who have attended to his care. Somewhat reluctantly, they bow and start making their way towards the tent’s flap. “Thank you all.” He waits until they’re gone before saying, “Felix…”

He plants one hand on his hip. “If you want an apology, you’re not getting one.”

Dimitri almost laughs before he realizes how much it will hurt. “I am not foolish enough to believe you would willingly give one.”

“I apologize when it’s warranted,” Felix says, looking away. 

“I know,” Dimitri says. “The healers say that I will recover within a week or so. Three at the absolute most.”

“Good,” Felix says, spitting the words out. “If you had died, I would have killed you myself.”

Somehow, he suspects that it would be unwise to point out the flaw in logic here but he doesn’t know what else to say. Neither, it seems, does Felix. The silence between them stretches and stretches until it is almost unbearable. Carefully, Dimitri reaches for Felix’s hand with his good one. “Please know that I did not seek to die today or intentionally leave you without someone to watch your back.”

Those words are enough to finally make Felix look him in the eye again although surprisingly, he does not pull his hand free. “You think that’s what I’m mad about?”

“Is it something else?”

“I’m your shield!” he exclaims, finally reclaiming his hand. “I’m your shield and I wasn’t there!”

Suddenly everything becomes painfully clear. Felix is not mad at Dimitri. He is angry with himself. “Felix, you were engaged in battle with two other soldiers. There was nothing you could have done. The fault lies with me for not remembering to be more careful of my right side.”

“Yeah, well…” It is like a wall has slammed down and any vulnerability is locked behind it again. “If you had died, I never would have heard the end of it so don’t do that again.” 

For the first time since well before the battle started, Dimitri smiles. “I promise to do my best not to.” Felix rolls his eyes but he also relaxes almost imperceptibly. There will be no more yelling for now. Dimitri clears his throat. “I take it that we won.”

Felix nods. “Yes. Gloucester waved the white flag. Apparently he wants to surrender to you personally.”

“Well then.” Dimitri swings his legs off the cot and winces at the way it jostles his arm in its sling. “I suppose that I will need a shirt.” 

Surprisingly, Felix does not argue with him about this and merely helps him dress once garments can be retrieved from Dimitri’s tent. And then he stands beside and ever so slightly behind Dimitri as he accepts Count Gloucester’s surrender and promise of loyalty going forward, glaring all the while.

Still, Dimitri is hardly surprised when word reaches them several weeks later of another rebellion, this time in former Adrestian Empire territory. 

Ingrid sighs as they review Ferdinand’s message warning them of the problem. This time, it is just her, Sylvain, and Felix gathered together in Dimitri’s office. “Is no one else tired of fighting after almost six years of it?”

“Maybe if we just make them fight each other…” Sylvain says, reaching up and linking his hands behind his head.

“Sylvain, that’s not helpful,” Ingrid says.

“I didn’t say it was!”

Dimitri sighs, trying to ignore the headache that’s been plaguing him all morning. “I suppose there’s nothing to be done but take the army there again.”

Felix, who has stayed mostly quiet up to this point, leans forward. “You’re staying here.”

Frowning, Dimitri says, “Pardon?”

“You heard me,” Felix says, taking the message from Ingrid. 

He should have expected this and yet… “I am the king. It is my duty to lead my army in matters like these.”

“Oh yeah?” Lightning fast, Felix reaches across the desk and jabs Dimitri in his still tender ribs. 

“Felix!” It comes out slightly more of a whine than he would have preferred but Felix’s well aimed strike had _hurt_. Magic had certainly speeded his recovery process along but it could only do so much. “Was that truly necessary?”

“Yes,” Felix folds his arms across his chest. “You almost died last time.”

Dimitri says, “That’s hardly the case. I was injured, yes, but we all carry our scars from battle.”

“He was only slightly stabbed,” Sylvain offers.

“Shut up, Sylvain,” Felix says, barely sparing him a glance and not seeming to realize their friend is on his side here. He leans forward, bracing both hands on Dimitri’s desk. “Don’t be stupid about this, b-.” He stops himself but Dimitri still knows what word he meant to say. “You can’t fight like this. I’ll handle it.” 

As deliberately as he can manage, Dimitri takes one deep breath, lets it out, and then another. “Please understand that I have no desire to be a mere figurehead ruler.” 

“No one thinks otherwise,” Ingrid says, drawing his attention towards her and away from Felix who surprisingly had not broken eye contact first. “And I don’t mean just here in Faerghus. Dorothea says it’s the same in Enbarr too.”

He is fighting a losing battle but that has yet to stop him. “They know me as the king who conquered their country and defeated their emperor. As a warrior.”

Sylvain says, “Come on, Your Majesty--”

“You know it’s not necessary to--”

“--it’s not like anyone’s going to forget you can knock them to the ground with that relic of yours without even breaking a sweat any time soon,” Sylvain finishes, ignoring his request like always.

In the end, it is Felix who lands the critical blow. “Am I or am I not your shield, Dimitri?”

Dimitri doesn’t even have to pause to consider his answer. “You are just as Rodrigue was my father’s.”

“Then let me do my job.”

There is no arguing with that and everyone in the room knows it. Dimitri sits back in his chair and spreads his hands wide, palms up in a gesture of surrender. “Very well. I will remain here in Fhirdiad then.”

Felix straightens up, a slightly smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. A second later, Sylvain slings an arm around his shoulders and grins. “So does that mean we get to call you General Fraldarius now?” Almost immediately, he has to twist out of the way to dodge the punch Felix awkwardly throws, laughing all the while.

Somehow, Dimitri is not surprised when Sylvain ends up staying in Fhirdiad with him and Ingrid goes with Felix just like he is also not terribly surprised that Ingrid lingers in former Adrestian territory for a bit longer even when the rest of the army marches back victorious. He’s glad that she does. Ingrid, just like the rest of his friends, deserves to take her moments of happiness with the person she loves when the opportunity presents itself. One day, he hopes they will all be able to set their weapons aside and measure their happiness in months and years instead of moments and hours. But there is still work to be done before that day can happen.

Still though. As Felix marches into his throne room without pausing to so much as remove his travel cloak, Dimitri thinks the work will be worth it, especially with the right people by his side. “Duke Fraldarius, welcome back,” Dimitri says, rising from his throne to greet him.

“Your Majesty.” Felix’s bow is deep if brief. “We won,” he says once he straightens up, extending a tightly rolled scroll towards him. 

Dimitri takes it but doesn’t open it. He knows what they contain: the surrenders and pledges from every lord who was a part of this rebellion. “I’d expect nothing less from someone with your capabilities.”

Felix’s cheeks flush the faintest of pinks but otherwise his expression remains unchanging. “Give me an actual challenge next time then.”

Their obligations to be a spectacle for the rest of the court are fulfilled and so Dimitri closes the distance between them so he can reach out and clasp forearms with the other man. Quietly, so not to be overheard, he asks, “Would you be willing to dine with me tonight so we might catch up?”

His lips press into a thin line for a moment before Felix replies, “You fell that far behind without me?”

“Ahh no actually. Sylvain and Mercedes helped me remain on top of things as much as anyone can. You know how it is.” He is dangerously close to rambling.

Thankfully, Felix stops him. “So what then? You just want to… talk?”

“If you are amenable,” Dimitri says. 

“Sure, whatever,” Felix says in the voice he always uses when he’s trying to pretend like he doesn’t care. It would work better if he, Ingrid, and Sylvain hadn’t figured it out back when they were still children. 

“At your convenience then.”

Felix nods sharply once and takes advantage of the dismissal by stepping backwards, bowing again. 

The Felix who joins him for dinner a few hours later is still clearly tired from the road but also seems more at ease than before. He even manages a smile or two as they talk about everything and nothing, mostly managing to skirt around anything that could be construed as work but not completely. Dimitri hadn’t realized how used to Felix’s company he’d become until he’d been without it. He has missed it, even their argument. Especially their arguments.

“How are your ribs?” Felix asks suddenly. 

Dimitri swallows his mouthful of food. “Mostly healed at this point, I think. That trick you pulled before won’t work again.”

“What about your arm?”

“Nothing more than another scar.” He moves the limb in question around to demonstrate its full range of motion. “Don’t worry, Felix. I’ll be able to join you in the field next time.” 

He can tell that Felix swallows whatever response he really wants to make by the set of his jaw. Instead, Felix shrugs and says, “So you’re good for a spar in the training yard tomorrow morning then.”

“Tomorrow?” Dimitri’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Felix, if you wish to rest after your journey, no one would fault you.” 

Felix snorts. “When have I ever been too tired to train?”

“Rarely if ever.”

“Exactly.” He takes a sip of water. “So tomorrow then?”

Dimitri smiles. “I will look forward to it.” 

Their exchange is easy and comfortable enough that Dimitri realizes mid-bite that they have quite possibly become friends again without realizing it. Not that he’ll say as much to Felix, of course. But at least now he has his friend again.

~

Training with Felix is rapidly starting to become one of the bright spots of Dimitri’s week. He’s never exactly had the other man’s zeal for training (and really, who does?) but it’s one of the few things in his life that feels so blissfully normal that he wishes could put aside the time to join him more often. 

They’ve been doing this for several months now. Tonight, most within the palace are eating their evening meal which means they are without any sort of audience. That is not always the case. Apparently people find enjoyment in watching their king fight when it is not a matter of life and death. Even when he purposely dresses to avoid notice, Dimitri is well aware of how much he stands out thanks to both his height and his eyepatch. 

But tonight, it is just he and Felix and they both need this. Court today had been stressful to say the least. Dimitri wants to help his people and he wants to give as many of them a voice as he possibly can. However, his patience is running short for the lords who want nothing but to aggressively protect their own holdings and power. Some have learned and some are willing to compromise for the betterment of all of Fódlan. They are the exception. He’d spent the last few hours listening to some of the other sorts and using his cloak to hide how he curled his hand into a fist tightly enough that his nails would have drawn blood had he not been wearing gauntlets. There was no hiding how he’d cracked the table when he slammed his hand against it after a particularly appalling statement but it was better a table than the nobleman’s skull.

Felix was angry too but, then again, that’s just Felix.

“Are you going to fight me or not?” Felix demands, straightening up and pointing his sword low. 

Dimitri grits his teeth and readjusts his grip on his sword. “I _am_ fighting you, Felix.”

“No. You’re not.” 

The truly irritating thing is that he knows Felix is right. He’s holding back because Felix does not deserve his anger. He is not the cause of his rage and therefore should not be its recipient. It’s part of why Dimitri took a training sword instead of a lance despite Felix’s knowing eye roll. True, he’s far better with a lance but there is something satisfying about the clash of steel that a lance cannot replicate. He swings that sword now in a high strike that Felix easily blocks, his own sword almost horizontal and held above his head.

“I know you can hit like harder than that,” Felix says, pushing back against him. “And I know you want to.”

It feels like permission that Dimitri is unsure he really wants granted. Memories of Felix sneering ‘beast’ and ‘boar prince’ at him float to the front of his mind far too easily. But also… he is no saint. And so he frees his blade and immediately moves on the offensive, letting each strike carry the true weight of his strength. Felix parries each strike, his speed compensating where his own considerable strength cannot. It is moments like these that make Dimitri wonder if perhaps Felix should not take up his father’s mantle of the ‘Shield of Faerghus’ and should instead be deemed his sword. It would certainly fit; his tongue is as sharp as any sword.

But that is not something that Dimitri is inclined to spare much thought for right now. Instead, he fights Felix like he could not fight the selfish lords who will not think of their people. 

The match does not end quickly but end it does when Felix moves just a hair too slowly and Dimitri strikes hard enough to make him stumble. A moment later, Dimitri has Felix shoved against a pillar in the training yard with his sword at his throat and a fistful of Felix’s shirt in his other hand. “Yield,” Dimitri says, the words sounding harsh even to his own ears.

Felix hesitates. His shoulders move in such a way that betray how he considers continuing to fight. A part of Dimitri wishes he would but then Felix swallows hard and says, “I yield,” in a tone that’s soft and low and tugs at something inside him. 

It takes Dimitri longer than it should to release his grip and step away. “My apologies, Felix. I should not have forgotten myself like that. This was to be a friendly match.” 

Felix yanks his shirt back down. “Calm yourself, boar. I asked for this.”

This is far from the first time he’s heard Felix call him that even since the war ended up but today, it feels like a physical blow. Silently, Dimitri chides himself for being foolish enough to ever think that Felix would ever leave behind seeing him as a beast. Somewhat stiffly, he says, “I am glad to have been of service then.”

“Fuck,” Felix says. 

He can feel a headache starting to brew behind his ruined eye. “I thank you for the match. This was… invigorating.” 

Felix curls his free hand into a fist as his side. “You can’t possibly think that I’m _mad_ at you for winning!”

Dimitri shakes his head, the lie coming to him easily. “Of course not. I simply find myself overly fatigued after all of today’s events. If you will excuse me until tomorrow?” He doesn’t wait for any real sort of acknowledgement before returning the training sword to the rack and leaving the yard, the sound of Felix’s muttered curses filling his ears until he is too far away to hear them. 

He knows it is not just Felix’s slip of the tongue that angers him and that it was merely a catalyst. Today has been grueling and the days preceding it have been much alike. They have been the sort that make him wonder if a united Fódlan is even possible in more than name. They have eaten at him quietly, feeding upon his fear that he is not the right person to undertake this task; that someone who died instead of him might have been better suited to it and that his legacy will ultimately be one of failure. And now _boar_ keeps echoing through his mind.

There is something to be said for being able to recognize his bad days. He just wishes he knew how to do something to make them better.

Dimitri does not sleep much that night.

The hour is still early when he finally acknowledges that there is no point continuing to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. If he is awake, he might as well get dressed and go be useful.

He stops mid-stride as he rounds the corner and sees Felix pacing back and forth in front of his office door. It takes another moment before Dimitri forces his feet to function once more. Felix looks up and stops as he draws closer. Doing his best to keep his tone even, Dimitri says, “Felix, good morning. This is unusual.” That much is true. They usually don’t meet for several more hours.

“Can we talk?” Felix asks without any preamble.

Dimitri nods once, reaching across him to open the door and then gestures for Felix to step inside. He closes it behind them but neither of them make any move to sit. Instead, Felix just stands there looking anywhere but at him as Dimitri stares at him, waiting. 

“I’m sorry,” Felix finally says.

Taking a deep breath, Dimitri says, “Felix, it is not necessary to--”

“Just shut up and let me say this, alright?” Felix all but shouts, eyes flashing as he meets Dimitri’s. Somewhat taken back, Dimitri shuts his mouth and silence reigns between them. After another few seconds, Felix says, “What I said yesterday. If I could take it back, I would. I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t you, though?” Dimitri asks, unable to help himself. 

Felix shakes his head. “When we were teenagers, yeah. And when we first got you back.” 

Given how Dimitri was after those five long years alone, he cannot begrudge Felix that assessment.

“But now? No,” Felix says, “I don’t.” Dimitri isn’t sure if he believes him and it must show on his face because Felix continues. “It was an accident. And I saw--” He breaks off abruptly and looks away. “I saw how I--” The set of his jaw gives away how Felix is clenching his teeth together, struggling against himself. Finally, he manages another, “I’m sorry.”

Once it is clear Felix is done speaking, Dimitri takes a few moments to try and get himself together and figure out how to respond. _It’s fine_ seems wrong because, well, it’s not. _I accept your apology_ feels too stiff and formal. And so he settles upon a quiet, “Thank you, Felix,” which in turn makes Felix blink and look up at him. And so Dimitri continues, “I did enjoy our sparring march yesterday. It was certainly something that I think we both needed after yesterday’s… events. I hope that perhaps we might train together again sometime soon.”

There’s a noticeable pause before Felix almost manages a smile and says, “Only if you promise to use a lance this time and offer me a proper challenge.”

Dimitri actually does smile. “I seem to recall our match yesterday ending with _you_ saying yield.” Felix opens and closes this mouth several times but nothing comes out but sputtering so Dimitri says, “Have you eaten yet this morning?”

“I--no?”

“Join me then?” Dimitri asks. “I was going to head down to the kitchens.”

From the look in Felix’s eyes, he understands the question for what it is but he still sighs and says, “You’re the king, Dimitri. There are servants to do that for you.”

He shrugs. “Yes but I prefer not to bother anyone if there’s no need.”

“Fine,” Felix says in a tone of voice that indicates he has been suffering for far too long. Dimitri doesn’t take it too seriously. “Let’s just go then.”

It is not lost on Dimitri that in the coming months, that he does not hear so much as the first syllable of either beast or boar come from Felix’s lips.

~

It has been almost a year since the war ended. 

The day begins and proceeds like any other recently. It is almost as if some sort of letter has been passed around the continent and a plethora of lords who have not yet bent their knee to formally pledge their loyalty have made their way to Fhirdiad as if doing so before that one year mark is important. They all seem to think this will prove something when all it is doing is adding to Dimitri’s list of future headaches because all of them want something or have some sort of problem that no one but the king can solve. 

But it won’t do for him to show any sort of weakness so Dimitri pastes an appropriately regal look on his face and solemnly accepts each of their oaths of fealty. He keeps his voice steady and makes sure to project so he is heard throughout the throne room. This is the sort of ceremony that Dimitri takes seriously but he is not naive enough to think that all of these lords mean the words they say. At least some of them are offering him false oaths which is why Sylvain stands off to one side with his easy smile hiding how carefully he’s watching them as they pledge. It is also why both he and Dorothea (who is visiting from Enbarr) will make it a point to chat with these lords later when their guards are down and they have a tankard of ale in their hands. Hopefully, between the two of them, they will be able to suss out who lied through their teeth and help avoid a further need for war in the future.

It is not an easy problem but at least he has the start of a solution for it. He does not have an answer for what is bothering Felix.

Perhaps others who had not grown up with him might have missed it but to Dimitri, Felix’s discomfort is clear as day. He has spent the better part of the week watching Felix grow increasingly agitated and he cannot figure out why. After five days of this, he decides that the only solution is to do what Felix will undoubtedly hate the most: ask him.

He waits until the end of the day. As a relatively brief council meeting wraps up and everyone stands to leave, he says, “Duke Fraldarius, if you would stay behind for a moment, please?”

Felix nods once, sitting back down in his seat, waiting. The request is not a particularly unusual one.

When the last person has left the room and shuts the door behind them, Dimitri finally turns to face his most trusted advisor. “Is there something wrong, Felix?”

He shakes his head curtly, looking to the side. “No.”

Unfortunately for Felix, Dimitri has long since learned his most obvious tells. “You have seemed ill at ease for several days now. I know that neither of us are particularly enjoying this influx of people hurrying to pledge their loyalty before the anniversary of the war’s end but if there’s anything that is--”

“I haven’t sworn to you, Dimitri!” Felix blurts out, amber eyes flashing angrily. “And I should have been the first!”

Dimitri blinks, startled into silence. All he can do is stare at Felix whose chest rises and falls like they’ve just gone a dozen rounds in the training yard. Finally, he picks his words carefully and says, “Felix, I hardly think that’s necessary. We have been friends since we were children and you fought by my side throughout the war-”

“Only a year of it.”

“-and before that even. And besides, House Blaiddyd is well aware of House Fraldarius’s loyalty. It is the one thing in this world that has never been in question.” He doesn’t mention the high cost of that loyalty partially because he thinks Felix might slap him and walk out if he does. 

The unreadable look Felix is giving him right now isn’t much better. “This isn’t about House Fraldarius. It’s about me. And you.” 

“What about us?” Dimitri asks.

Felix doesn’t answer at first and just shoves his chair back to stand. For a moment, he thinks the other man means to leave but instead he just starts to pace. He marks the path back and forth three times before Dimitri stands too, turning to face him and lean against the table edge. Finally, he stops and plants one hand on his hip. “We weren’t friends. For years.”

Dimitri nods. They’ve had this part of the conversation before. Almost a year ago, actually. “I would like to think we are now.” 

The tiniest bit of tension leaves his shoulders. “I… I think we are too. But.” Felix doesn’t meet his eyes. “We were. And any childish promises we might have made as children are worthless. And broken.”

That is a point on which they will simply have to disagree but Dimitri knows there’s no point in saying as much to Felix now. Instead, he closes the distance between them and reaches out to nudge Felix’s chin up until his amber eyes meet his lone blue one. “This is important to you.”

“I need to do this,” Felix says.

Dimitri drops his hand and takes half a step back. “You should have said something.”

Felix shrugs. “You’d already started accepting oaths when I got back from Fraldarius and then we’ve been so busy with everything else that…” He shrugs again. 

“I assume you do not wish to do this in front of the court tomorrow?”

“With all of those simpering idiots?” Felix does not bother to hide his sneer. “I’d rather get on my knees for you now then be grouped with them.”

“Perhaps at least in the throne room then?” Dimitri suggests, trying very hard not to let his mind wander. 

“Alright then.” He agrees and starts moving towards the door so quickly that Dimitri is left staring at the spot where he once stood until Felix turns and asks, “Are you coming or not?”

“Of course, Felix.”

They don’t say anything as they make their way through the halls to the throne room. It’s not a far walk anyways and quite frankly, Dimitri’s not sure what he’d say anyways. This is the most awkward he’s felt in Felix’s presence in a long time and judging by the set of his shoulders, Felix seems to feel the same. 

The guard on duty bows and pushes open the heavy door for them and then closes it behind them with a loud _thunk._ The walk to his throne has never felt so long but once they’re standing in front of it, Dimitri clears his throat and says, “Do you uhhh…”

“Yeah, I know the damn words,” Felix says, looking and sounding remarkably irritated for someone who insists that he wants to do this.

“Very well then.” Dimitri stands on the lowest step of his throne’s dias as Felix draws his sword and lays it down at Dimitri’s feet as he kneels. He extends his hands out, palms up, and Felix is about to lay his own on them when Dimitri snatches them back. “Wait!”

“Seriously?” Felix glares up at him. 

“Yes,” Dimitri says as he yanks off first one glove and then the other, tucking them into his belt. Felix’s eyes widen before he hastens to follow suit. Only then does Dimitri extend his hands out again. He waits until Felix lays his bare hands on his before saying, “Whenever you are ready, Felix.”

It is rare that Felix makes and maintains eye contact but he does so now as he says in a clear and sure voice, “I, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, duke of Fraldarius, swear to be faithful and true to Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, king of Faerghus and of Fódlan. My sword is his sword and my shield is his shield...”

Dimitri barely hears the rest of the words of the oath as he is too distracted by Felix himself. Felix who sneers at all the trappings of chivalry. Felix who kneels before him now and earnestly swears the oath of fealty clearly and distinctly, never pausing or stumbling. In a way, he is glad that there is no one else in the room to see this even if oaths of fealty are traditionally witnessed. Because this feels like far more than a simple oath from a vassal to his liege lord because Felix and Dimitri themselves are far more than that. There is nuance wrapped in every word and every look. They have a history and, he thinks, they have a future. 

“...in the sight of the goddess, this I swear.”

He is silent for a fraction of a second too long, caught up in the weight of the moment and so Dimitri blushes before he says, “And I, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, do accept the oath and word of Felix Hugo Fraldarius.” Somehow, he makes it through the next few sentences of his, thankfully, far shorter response without any further stumbles and he is grateful when he is able to conclude his part by saying, “in the sight of the goddess, this I swear.” 

Usually, this was where the pledging lord would murmur his thanks or something of that sort but not Felix. No, instead Felix bows his head and says softly, yet clearly, “I am yours,” and it takes everything Dimitri has not to drop to his knees and kiss him deeply. Instead, Dimitri moves his hands out from beneath Felix’s and gently takes his head between them, bending nearly in two to gently press a kiss to the crown of his head. They remain like that for a few long moments before Felix shifts ever so slightly and Dimitri releases him and straightens back up. 

Felix returns his sword to its scabbard before moving to stand. Politely, Dimitri offers him a hand which, surprisingly enough, he actually takes. “There,” Felix says somewhat gruffly. “That’s done then.” 

A sound of amusement escapes from Dimitri’s lips. “I… ahhh… admit that I’m not entirely sure what to do now.”

“We’re going to go eat dinner and you,” Felix jabs two fingers at his chest, “are not going to make this weird.”

He is fairly sure it is already too late for that but Dimitri just smiles and says, “Of course, Felix.” 

They won’t talk about what’s just happened. That doesn’t particularly bother Dimitri like it might once have. Instead, he is content for them to share a meal together, discuss the business of the kingdom, and talk into the night as friends do. 

Tomorrow, the war will have been over for a year but it feels as if dawn has just arrived.


End file.
